


In Other Words (hold my hand)

by rookmyfanwy



Series: We've Got Time [2]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, General Sobriety, Humor, touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rookmyfanwy/pseuds/rookmyfanwy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes until the third check up for Alison to fully realize she's <i>dating</i> Detective Elizabeth Childs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Other Words (hold my hand)

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly recommend reading the [previous installment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1725128), but it can also stand alone. If you're stubborn.

It takes until the third check up for Alison to fully realize she's _dating_ Detective Elizabeth Childs.

 

Their first excursion had been a bit ambiguous. They'd made perfectly agreeable small talk- steadfastly avoiding the topic of her overnight stay at that dingy dungeon currently passing as a jail.

 

Beth had sat across from her at the cafe, spending equal amounts of time staring at Alison and shifting her eyes to their surroundings. She'd seemed unusually stoic, smiling only at her retelling of Oscar's game winning assist. (But really, her darling had been the shining star. Not _David_ , as Coach Fulton is so fond of saying.) Even then, the grin had been small and mirthless.

 

Not only had they not discussed anything of substance, Beth had avoided sharing information remotely considered personal. When Alison had prodded about her police work, the woman had shut down entirely. All she got was a muttered, “Rough, most days.”

 

Immediately after that comment, Beth received a suspiciously vague call she simply had to take, ending the check up rather succinctly. It'd left Alison with the upsetting implication that she had been a bad date.

 

Which is why the second invitation was a total surprise.

 

Regardless, Alison had put on her best face for their second meeting, dreading a night of awkward silence.

 

 _"Why did I agree to this?"_ she had asked herself as she donned her black dress.

 

When the knock came, Alison had to physically push herself to open the door. What had greeted her was... a smiling Beth?

 

 _"Flowers?_ _”_ the other woman had offered, pulling a bouquet of red carnations from behind her back.

 

Alison was struck dumb. She'd mutely accepted, barely able to place them in a vase before Beth ushered her off into a whirlwind of a night.

 

They visited an art gallery, ate seafood, and chatted about anything and everything. Alison had been in awe of this different Beth, seeing more of her late night jail companion than the icy figure she'd met at the cafe.

 

To top it all off, they'd ended the night watching a gripping performance of _Death of a Salesman_.

 

Or so the newspaper had said.

 

Alison had been too busy focusing on Beth's hand in hers to listen to Willy Loman's self-absorbed monologues.

 

“Hey. Childs to Hendrix, anybody home?”

 

Alison's hand flutters to her jaw as she's drawn into the present. Beth is staring at her expectantly, a tiny half smile lighting up her eyes. Alison hums in acknowledgment.

 

“Do you like the food? You haven't really eaten much,” Beth observes, ever the detective, cutting into her own steak and taking a bite. “My coworker Angela said she loved that pasta.”

 

“We're dating,” Alison blurts in response.

 

Beth stops mid chew, quirking an eyebrow at the statement. Pursing her lips, Alison restrains the sudden urge to smack her tactless face right off. She takes a sip of water as the detective slowly swallows.

 

“I hope you aren't talking about Angela,” Beth begins, setting her fork and knife down.

 

“What?” Alison's brows crease in confusion, “Of course not! I've never even met your coworker.”

 

“Excellent. I saw you first,” Beth says simply. As if Alison were something to be _claimed_ , like a mountain's summit or a piece of cake.

 

Alison's wide eyes must warn the detective of her error, because she rushes out with, “I'm joking, Alison.”

 

“Oh. Yes, of course.”

 

There's a moment of silence before Beth sighs, rubbing her mouth with her hand. “Okay. I can tell this is bothering you.”

 

“I just want to be clear.” That sounds a bit demanding, so Alison tacks on, “For Gemma and Oscar. I can't have their home life destabilized any more than it has been.”

 

Hands raised in capitulation, Beth replies, “I have no plans to mess with your kids. I know you've got a lot on your plate, what with the divorce and all.”

 

“Thank you,” Alison nods.

 

“As far as the _dating_ goes...” Beth takes a breath, chuckling quietly.

 

“What's funny?”

 

“You, Miss Hendrix.”

 

“Can't say I've ever been called funny,” Alison answers, smiling at the other brunette's mirth.

 

“Well, you are,” Beth says. Alison stops herself from saying _no, you_ _are_ like a doe-eyed idiot from a romantic comedy. “You make me smile. And I like you quite a bit. A lot more than I should, considering we met when you were in jail.”

 

Alison winces. “Can we not say the J word?”

 

“What else do you want me to call it? The dumpster? That's the nickname at the station.”

 

She clears her throat, trying to think of alternatives.

 

“Just... not that. Especially not 'the dumpster',” she finally says, air quoting the nickname. “It makes me sound unsavory.”

 

Beth lets out a short laugh. “Alison, no one would ever describe you as unsavory.”

 

“ _I_ am going to take that as a compliment.”

 

“That's what it was. Now, as far as dating goes, it's up to you,” Beth shrugs, leaning back in her chair. “I, personally, enjoy this and I'd love to do it more. A lot more.”

 

“I would too,” Alison nods, a warmth spreading through her chest. Like a magnet, her hand moves to rest against it, trying to ease the heat. “It's just... at the cafe...”

 

Beth's glances at her sharply with trepidation written in the line of her brow.

 

“You just didn't seem,” Alison hesitates, “interested.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Alison watches the other woman's mouth twitch into a frown.

 

“The second date was wonderful, though,” she says, hoping to reverse the damage she's done. “And this one has been lovely.”

 

Beth remains silent. Alison's gut flips, afraid she's made a horrible mistake bringing up the brunette's odd behavior. Or worse, that Beth would retreat into herself again.

 

Just when the silence becomes unbearable, Beth suddenly asks, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

 

Alison blinks. “I'm sorry?”

 

“I said, 'Do you wanna get out of here?'” Beth repeats.

 

“Why?” Alison sits up straighter, her hand dropping to the table.

 

Beth tilts her head, giving the smaller woman a sly smile. “Do you trust me?”

 

It's rather unfortunate, in retrospect, that Alison replies with: “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

“Oh no.”

 

“Ali, come on!”

 

“No, no. No way.”

 

“Stop with the dismissive hand waving and come here!”

 

“Sorry. Nope. I can't.”

 

Beth huffs in exasperation from her position on the ledge.

 

Not just any ledge, the ledge on a roof of a nauseatingly tall apartment complex. Alison is standing at least five feet away.

 

 _As_ _any sane person_ _should be,_ she thinks.

 

“For me?” Beth pleads, stretching her hand out again.

 

Alison laughs incredulously. “You're a police officer! You should be encouraging public safety, not this... _insanity_!”

 

“Okay, first of all, I am a detective, not a street cop. Just so we're crystal clear. And secondly,” Beth sits, feet dangling off of the edge, “this is perfectly safe.”

 

“ _Perfectly safe?_ ” Alison nearly screeches, “Sitting on top of a one hundred story building?!”

 

“Oh, it's only, like,” the detective peers over at the busy crowd below, “fifty stories, maximum.”

 

“You've got to be kidding me,” Alison murmurs, arms folding. She tiptoes closer to the brunette, keeping her head as far away as possible from the edge.

 

“What are you doing?” Beth asks, brows furrowing. “You look like an ostrich.”

 

Alison inches forward, screwing her eyes shut, hands waving about to feel the for lip Beth's sitting on.

 

“I don't want to see it,” she grits out. “I hate heights.”

 

She hears a chuckle and suddenly warm hands are gripping her biceps.

 

“Alison.” Thumbs move soothingly across her jacket, back and forth. She smells lilacs.

 

Spring in winter. Apt.

 

“Open your eyes, Alison.”

 

And despite the fear crawling up her throat-dripping down her stomach- she does.

 

Brown eyes greet her, crinkled with happiness. At this distance she notes hints of gold.

 

“Just watch me,” Beth says gently, moving them backwards. “It's you and me, Hendrix. Only you and me.”

 

Alison nods once, hands cupping Beth's elbows.

 

“You and me,” she repeats quietly. They sway as they walk, making the movement seem like a slow dance. The thought of slow dancing with the detective makes Alison's mouth go dry.

 

Beth misinterprets her sudden swallow for nervousness. She pulls the petite woman closer, the smell of lilacs growing stronger.

 

“I'm right here,” she reassures.

 

A few more steps and they hit the edge. Alison ignores anything that isn't Beth, biting her lips to hold in a nervous squeak. The detective eases them down until they're sitting side by side, backs to the skyline.

 

“See? We made it!” Beth smirks. “Now you just have to turn around.”

 

“I think I'm fine,” Alison dismisses, not wanting the hands on her to move.

 

“You're missing the best part,” Beth says. One hand waves grandly toward the city.

 

Alison frowns at the loss of contact.

 

“I'm not interested in falling off a building.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I'd go right after you.”

 

Alison starts, turning to fully face the other woman. “What? Why?”

 

“I feel like it'd get lonely, laying down there as a pile of mush,” Beth shrugs, shaking her head slightly. “Being lonely sucks.”

 

“That's very kind of you, I guess,” Alison says, biting back _are you lonely?_

 

“So, how about it?” Beth waggles her eyebrows, making Alison giggle.

 

“Okay, fine,” she concedes. Immediately, Alison's shuts her eyes again.

 

They spend the next few minutes shifting around, until suddenly there is no ground under her feet. She clutches Beth's hand that's still on her bicep. Her heart booms in her ears. The other woman shifts closer, wrapping an arm around Alison's shoulders.

 

“You're okay,” Beth breathes into her ear. A shiver runs down her spine. “Open your eyes.”

 

When she does, Alison has to contain a gasp.

 

Sure, there's a great view of the shore from here, all the people do look tiny, and _yes,_ it's cheesy and romantic, but what's truly amazing is the building face that's now visible between two complexes.

 

It's covered in art.

 

Not graffiti, but honest to god _art._ Abstracts, impressions, realism- it's all on this unassuming building in the middle of town. The face is recessed, so passers-by can't see the sprawling murals.

 

“This is amazing!” she exclaims, absorbing a rendition of _The Creation of Adam_. It has a splinter in the middle and a faceless God. The words underneath it read: **God does not sow. He reaps.**

 

“I'm glad you think so,” Beth says. Alison turns to find the detective's attention solely on her and not the murals. “Not many people know about this. It's right in the open but nobody sees it.”

 

“How'd you find it then, Detective?” Alison asks.

 

“Accident, mostly,” she shrugs, “It's kind of a funny story. But I like it a lot.”

 

“I think I like it too,” Alison echoes, not sure if they're talking about the art anymore.

 

Beth smiles suddenly, rocking them to the left.

 

“ELIZABETH CHILDS!” Alison screams in panic. Her hand slams into the detective, gripping her lapel in panic. There's visions of falling and dying and a horrible, horrible noise and _what would they tell her kids?_

 

Beth pulls them upright, roaring with laughter.

 

“The look... on your face,” she wheezes.

 

“I can't believe you did that,” Alison snaps, giving Beth a harsh poke in the side.

 

The detective rubs the wounded spot. “Ouch!”

 

“You deserve it! Haven't you ever heard 'don't rock the boat?' I thought I was going to die!” Alison scowls.

 

“Oh, please. I'd catch you,” Beth snorts, and Ali can feel the her traitorous lips lifting into a small smile. They both turn back to the art.

 

They giggle at the more lewd portraits (because of course no male with a pulse would avoid tagging a building with their weenie), and Alison points out classic paintings, putting her singular semester in art class to good use.

 

All the while, Beth just _beam_ _s_ at her.

 

And Alison- thinking of ice and lilacs and unanswered questions- is certain she would rock the boat a million times just to see that kind of joy again.

 

 


End file.
